In typical New York fashion, the inhabitants of the city shrugged off
the effects of the 5.5 quake that shook the earth below their feet on
August 10th, 1884, and got back to work laying the groundwork for the
secular spires of the industrial age that would define Manhattan’s
future skyline. While thrill seekers and sightseers were enjoying the
ocean view from high atop La Marcus Thompson’s switchback railway
(essentially what was America’s first roller coaster) at Brooklyn’s
Coney Island, workers were busy constructing the pedestal for the newly
completed Statue of liberty. When the bronze lady was finally dedicated
in 1886, she rose 309 feet above New York Harbor, eclipsing the handful
of buildings that had broken 100 feet in height, and the cross at the
top of Trinity Church at 281 feet.

Though 1884 had marked another watershed in man’s continued struggle
against the effects of gravity and our need to express ourselves via
some loftier architectural ambition, a much simpler expression of human
potential and ingenuity was established in an unpretentious four story
brick building on the corner 55th Street and 3rd Avenue. Another grand
drinking parlor opened its doors to mankind.

By the turn of the century, the use of steel in place of masonry load
bearing walls and improvements in elevator design fueled the city’s
skyward growth. Buildings like the St. Paul, Park Row and the famed
Flatiron, all in excess of 300 feet, challenged “Lady Liberty” for
dominance of the urban vista. And by the time Patrick J. Clarke became
proprietor of the tavern in the early 1900s, the newest office
structure would top out at over 700 feet. For the next several decades
New York’s older residential neighborhoods and businesses would fight
to retain their identity against the endless ascension of commercial
development. P.J. CLARKE'S would be one of
the few Midtown
establishments that would persist and prevail in that struggle.

From the very first moment that I stepped through its doors, sometime
back in the 1970s, I knew there was something extraordinary about P.J. CLARKE'S. That ongoing
thirst for the perfect public house was quenched
even before the first glass touched my lips. There was an energy about
the place that was in perfect harmony with that portion of my psyche
that believes that true bliss and enlightenment are attainable along
the bar rail of a great saloon. During my somewhat quixotic journey
through life, I can recall only a few instances of being so instantly
smitten with a joint: ThePalace in Prescott, Arizona,TheWashoe
Club
in
Virginia
City,Nevada
and The Cat’s Eye Pub in the Fells Point
section of Baltimore.

More often than not, the quality of a watering hole is measured by the
notoriety of those that have decided to partake of its waters. Many a
reputation has been built on the notables and notorious who have been
spied sitting in a quiet corner late at night, or the autographed
pictures with some famous arm around the owner’s shoulder that adorn
the interior. In the case of P.J.
CLARKE'S, there are few bars on the
planet that can lay claim to having extended their hospitality to as
many entertainers, sport’s legends, titans of industry or the elite of
café society. But this place is as much about those who have
descended
from their penthouses and corporate towers, as it is about those who
have ascended from manholes, tunnels and subway cars in order to better
deal with the demands and distress of modern life.

For the past 125 years this beloved New York institution has stood as
both mission and fortress. In the heart of these cold steel canyons and
the often unforgiving realities of this contemporary city, any man and
everyman can find comfort, camaraderie and that intrinsic sense of self
within these sheltering old brick walls. And as man continues with his
efforts to impress himself upon the divine by scaling to new
height . . . P.J. CLARKE'S remains that
faithful glimpse of heaven on the
ground floor.